


Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

by PepperF



Series: Tattoo AU [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, tattoo artist Annie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperF/pseuds/PepperF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To many people, he supposed that this could look like a mid-life crisis: he'd hit 40, and had promptly gone out to get a tattoo and ended up dating someone much younger than him. Cynics might suggest that he should just go all in and buy a flashy red sports car, too. But to Jeff's mind, this was a very different situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Bethany for the multiple reviews and idea-bouncing with this one (it wasn't coming into shape, for some reason...), and for coming up with the tattoo - which you can see [here](http://pepperf.tumblr.com/post/127016004764/fic-carnation-lily-lily-rose).

To many people, he supposed that this could look like a mid-life crisis: he'd hit 40, and had promptly gone out to get a tattoo and ended up dating someone much younger than him. Cynics might suggest that he should just go all in and buy a flashy red sports car, too. But to Jeff's mind, this was a very different situation, nothing like the kind of empty, hollow feeling he got when he binged on expensive clothes or too much alcohol. Okay, he had briefly freaked out about the age difference, and his brain still had moments of, "oh god, when I was in college, she was going on field trips to the zoo and making baking-soda volcanoes for the science fair". But this thing with Annie had been going on for five weeks now – four weeks and six days longer than his last dozen relationships – and rather than feeling panicky, or trapped, or any of the things he might have expected, lately he felt kind of... strangely... calm? Like he was happy or something. It was weird.

Maybe it was all the sex. Good sex always helped, in Jeff's opinion – and this sex was both good _and_ plentiful. Annie had as high a sex drive as Jeff himself, and although she was less experienced, she made up for that in spades with her enthusiasm and creativity – the kind of sex that made his brain melt and etched a permanent smile on his face. It was so great, in fact, that what had started out as just a hookup had turned into a sure thing, which had turned into a thing where sometimes they didn't even have sex and he didn't mind. There was probably a name for that sort of thing, but really, why did everything have to be labeled? He just liked hanging out with her, because she was funny and pretty and smart and she smelled amazing, like freshly baked cupcakes.

Yeah, she was pretty awesome. The guys at work would totally be jealous – if they knew.

The reasons that he hadn’t told anyone at work that he was seeing someone were good and sensible. Partly it was because he knew they'd be skeevy about it as soon as they heard about her profession – and if not then, definitely when they met her, because she was not only gorgeous, but also covered in tattoos. To men like his colleagues, that would put her on a par with strippers and Hooters waitresses (not that those ladies should be disrespected either – some of them were his favorite clients – but just try explaining that to those guys). Annie was a nice girl, and when he pictured introducing her to his friends, he got the urge to preemptively punch Alan.

Besides which, he wasn't a fourteen-year-old girl and didn't need to discuss his love life with everyone who'd listen. And it wasn't as if she was begging to meet them or anything. She liked spending time with him – mostly in bed, it had to be said – and beyond that, she was pretty easygoing. She didn't even mind that he wouldn't go to her place, and said she preferred having a place she could retreat to that was just hers. But seriously, he'd spent a night there, and between the fear that he was going to catch something awful, worrying that the neighbors were going to break in and murder them, and the flashing neon lights and periodic announcements about strap-ons from the sex shop downstairs (he was fairly sure Alan had once offered him a discount card for the place), he hadn’t slept a wink. 

Come to think of it, if she could survive that on a nightly basis, she could probably survive Alan for a couple of hours. Maybe he should nut up and invite her to the firm's annual summer picnic, the card for which was currently burning a hole in the pocket of his favorite Armani jacket.

He heard a camera shutter sound, and then Annie patted him. "Okay, done." She leaned forward, stretching her naked body along his naked back to show him the photo on her phone, and Jeff shelved his thoughts and propped himself up on his elbows to take a look.

"Nice," he said. "Never in a million years am I getting a unicorn tattoo, you understand – but it looks great."

Annie liked to use him as a sketchbook, he'd discovered. She said it was better than working on paper, because the human body had contours and movement, unexpected folds, changing colors... As far as Jeff was concerned, he had no problem with a gorgeous woman straddling him, caressing him, and admiring his body in close detail. The fact that it usually led to sex was just a bonus.

Annie shrugged, looking pleased. "It's just a first draft," she said, sitting back and absently massaging the top of his ass. "Jeff, I was wondering... I'd like to do this properly – get some professional photos taken, I mean, to put around the shop and show off the sort of things I can do. Maybe put them on the website – anonymized, of course. We'd make a day of it, paint a range of different things, use good lighting and a camera that isn't a phone... I have a friend who's a filmmaker, I'm sure he'd be willing to help. Would you be willing to model for me? I haven't got much money, but I could pay you back somehow." She brightened, and bounced a little. "I could do your tattoo for free, once you choose a design!"

Jeff reached back and ran a hand up her leg to her thigh. "I always said my body was a work of art," he said, smugly.

Annie swatted him, but he could feel her chuckling. "You'd do it? You wouldn't mind?"

"Mind that you want to adorn your walls with photos of my body? Yeah, that sounds terrible, god, why me."

"Photos of _my tattoo designs_ on your body," she corrected.

"To-may-to, to-mah-to. Sure, why not. I always thought I could be someone's muse."

He could practically feel her eyes rolling. "You are so..."

 _Lucky_ , said the part of his brain currently graffiti-ing her name in hearts around the inside of his head. To cover it, he tugged her down beside him, mindful of the paint on his back (thankfully she'd put a cheap, plain sheet over his bed before she started). "Sexy?" he suggested. "Manly? Good in bed?"

Annie pursed her lips, trying to look prim (and failing entirely). "I was gonna say vain," she said, eyes sparkling. "But I'm trying to be polite."

His eyes strayed downwards. Only Annie would try for good manners while naked in his bed. "I can't help the vanity," he said. "There's this gorgeous woman who keeps stroking my ego." He gave her a gentle kiss, and felt her lips curl up in a smile. Then he followed the slender line of her neck, down to her shoulder, where a spray of blossoms led – so enticingly – down along her collarbone to her breasts. She hummed approvingly, tilting her head back invitingly, and Jeff propped himself up on one elbow and began to trace the delicate branches with his tongue, planting a kiss wherever there was a leaf or a flower. Carnation, lily, rose, and she was squirming. He'd never realized before how interesting horticulture could be. Violet, foxglove, forget-me-not, vine maple... sunflower...

"Oh... _Jeff_..."

Yeah, that was his favorite flower.

Annie groaned, and pushed him over onto his back, climbing on top of him.

"Oh, okay," said Jeff, agreeably, but Annie grabbed his reaching hands and pinned them to the bed.

"Jeff, behave," she reproved him, despite the heat he could feel where she sat in his lap. "I'm trying to work."

He widened his eyes innocently, and opened his hands in surrender, so she released his wrists, and leaned over him to reach for the paint on the nightstand – which was a mistake, because he took shameless advantage of the position by trying to fit his mouth around as much of her breast as possible (what? It was _right there_ ), at the same time as he slid his hands down over her ass. She squirmed, hand dropping to the sheet beside his head to support herself. The paintbrush was forgotten as she pressed down, crushing his erection deliciously between them. 

"Oh god... Jeff. This is not what I... mmm..."

She sat up straighter, leaning her hands on his chest for balance as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. The new, harder angle made them both groan, and she rocked in his lap as he tried to touch her everywhere at once, greedy for her soft skin. He couldn't get enough of her - and the little noises she was making were driving him crazy. "Annie... god."

But then she dropped her head and opened her eyes, focused again. "Jeff. Be _have_ ," she said again, despite the tiny rolling movements of her hips. 

"If I say, 'it'll only take a minute', is that the least sexy proposition you've ever had?"

She smiled, and stilled. "If you can be good for fifteen more minutes, I promise I'll make it worth the wait," she said.

"Ugh. _Fine_ ," he sighed, collapsing back and flinging his arms out to the side, away from temptation. "Paint me like one of your French girls."

Annie leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, and the movement made his eyes close and dragged a faint whine from him. "Good boy."

She retrieved the brush, which had thankfully just rolled into a fold of the sheet, and reached for the black paint, holding it in one hand while she sketched out the shape she wanted. Now and then she shifted, and the feeling shivered through him - but he managed to rein it in, even when she got distracted for a second, eyes fluttering closed as she slid against him, and he could feel how hot and wet she was, and when he glanced down, he could see his cock tucked between her legs...

He stretched out a long arm and snagged the other pillow, stuffing it over his face. "Just hurry up. Please," he begged, muffled.

After a second, she stopped moving again, and went back to painting – so Jeff folded the pillow and shoved it under his head. At least the view was better this way around, even if it was slow torture. She was focusing hard, her tongue between her teeth and a cute little frown line between her brows, and even though she was choosing this over sex with him, he found he was oddly content to just lie there and watch her work.

"It's a Celtic symbol," she explained, as if he'd asked. She reached past him for the paint, and then brought the brush back down to fill in one of the lines. It felt like tiny, damp licks. "It means balance."

Jeff looked down. It looked kind of like a figure eight or an eternity symbol, only with more loops. It looked pretty good, actually. "My mom's Irish," he remarked. "Well, partly. Like, a quarter, or something." She hmmed, and Jeff wondered absently what his mom would think of Annie. Once she got past the tattoos, he thought, she'd probably really like her. It was kind of impossible not to. Plus, if he could get her to state outright that Annie was sweet and smart and adorable and just all-around amazing – which shouldn't be too hard – and that the tattoos made no difference to her worth as a human being, then she could hardly object if he got one. 

In an odd way, the flowers were kind of sweetly old-fashioned, so it was entirely possible his mom would actually like them. They were delicately shaded, with no hard edges, all in the same realistic style. Naked, she looked ethereal, fairy-like, as though she was clothed all in petals and leaves. She'd explained to him that, when she'd first decided to get tattooed, she'd researched and found someone who could do the style she wanted, and had worked with them for some time on a plan for the overall design. It was still an ongoing project, and the tattooist – the shop's owner, Shirley – had become a friend, and subsequently an employer.

He hadn't found out yet why she'd decided on such an extreme makeover at such a young age, but he got the feeling that her past hadn't exactly been a bed of roses, so to speak. Maybe in time she'd feel comfortable enough to tell him the story.

"Different color, or all in black?"

He squinted down at the design. Half of it had been filled in already, but the other half was done only in outline. He could see now that it was in fact two separate lines, curling around one another, always in sync, never crossing, but intertwined, and held together by an outer line that encircled them. "Different color," he said. "Blue?"

Annie's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Blue, huh? Who would have guessed." Jeff poked out his tongue, and lay back as she reached out to drop her brush into the water jar, and grab a clean brush and the blue paint. Then she shuffled down so she was sitting on his thighs, leaned forward, and pursed her lips and blew gently on the paint on his abdomen. Jeff shivered, and lifted his head to give her a glare.

"Tease," he accused.

Annie shrugged, unashamed. "Just keeping you interested in the process," she said. She pressed a quick kiss to the head of his cock – which was still very much interested – and Jeff groaned.

"You're nearly done, right?"

"Nearly," she confirmed, and shifted back up to his lap.

Jeff threw his arm over his face when she sat deliberately on his erection and wiggled, knowing she wouldn't give in until she was done painting him. "Ohhhhh god. You are so mean. _So_ mean."

Annie chuckled. The first swirling stroke of the brush made him shudder, but he gritted his teeth and willed himself to stay still. She'd only prolong it if he moved.

The room was silent for a few minutes, and it was only when he'd regained some semblance of control that he dared to look again, just in time to see her brush back a lock of hair that had fallen forward – and an unexpected surge of tenderness and... something else... swept through him, powerful and impossible to resist. It was like pins and needles, but all through his chest – as though something long dormant had stirred. He drew in a long, slow breath, feeling dizzy and dry-mouthed. Whoa. That was weird. And unexpected. And... not horrible.

"I told you, I'm nearly done," she said, smiling coyly up at him and then giving a pointed look down at herself. 

He realized that he was gripping her thighs tightly. "Oh, uh – sorry," he said, flustered, and released her, rubbing his hands over the red marks he'd left. He looked down at her hands, working on him, gentle and sure. And suddenly he knew. "This. I want this," he blurted. She looked up, eyebrows raised, and he waved hastily at the painting. "For my tattoo. This is the design I want."

"Yeah?" she looked pleased but surprised. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, huskily. "It's perfect."

"Aww!" She leaned forward and gave him a kiss, which he returned thoroughly, cupping the back of her head and drawing her down to him, both of them uncaring of wet paint.

After all, what better than a tattoo to commemorate the moment that – for the first time, at age 40 – Jeff Winger had realized he was in love.

"Hey, you wanna go to a picnic?"


End file.
